Sesshoumaru-sama by Sesshoumaru

Sesshoumaru

Sesshoumaru

Flowing strands of moonlight,

Kissing the body of one I can't forget,

Porcelain skin, the color so light,

On a man I wish I had met.

The angelic silk that pours down his shoulders,

And reaching the small of his back,

Looks as glassy as diamonds,

And owns every quality I lack.

Liquid-gold eyes drown me,

In their heavenly, blissful stare,

Their lipid pools condone me,

On a face so beautiful and fair.

On his high forehead hangs the moon,

Caught forever in a crescent,

It is of the deepest blue,

Never to reach its full ascent.

The molded porcelain that is he,

In every shape and sound and move,

Is the most majestic that it could be,

Its only intent is to soothe.

He is wild, but stoically calm,

Sinful, exotic eyes always holding a shine,

Strands of heaven, just like a psalm,

Of the god that will never be mine.